Santa's Workshop
by OnthaEdge487
Summary: CHAPTER 1 FINALLY UP! PLEASE R&R!! What if the WWE was really a toy production agency, and the superstars were elves? Yea, sucky summary. Just read it & you'll see. Your ideas & comments are appreciated.
1. The Cast List

Santa's Workshop  
  
Disclaimer~ I don't own anyone in this fic . . . yet. If I did I would own Mattie . . . and Christian . . . and Edge . . . and Rey . . . and Jericho . . . and . . . and . . . *faints in her own puddle of drool*  
  
A/N~ This was just some weird idea I come up with. It'll be explained in the next chapter. *shrugs* It must be all the Christmas music my parents keep playing . . . that infernal racket . . . I'll give them Deck the Halls . . . straight to . . . *angry mumbling* Right . . . this is just a list of the cast. I'm gonna try to add everyone in the actual fic, but if you don't see some of the people mentioned below, then please don't get upset. I kinda went overboard, and now I have a cast of like 41 or so. That's a whole lotta people to write into one fic . . . and I doubt this will be done before Christmas. Hell, I'll still be working on this thing in July. But who ever said Christmas in July was a bad thing? Just bare with me on this. I'm working through writers block, and if the actual fic sucks I apologize. I also apologize if this fic offends anyone, for any reason. Well, I'm done . . . Read on people!  
  
The Cast:  
  
President of the Company- Vince McMahon  
  
Vice President- Linda McMahon  
  
Vince's Assistant/Head of Management- William Regal  
  
Janitors- No Longer Employed WWE Superstars (hint hint)  
  
  
  
Elves List:  
  
  
  
Toy Workshop/ Electric Toy Workers:  
  
Head Elf- Matt Hardy  
  
Head Elf's assistant- Shannon Moore  
  
Jeff Hardy  
  
Rey Mysterio  
  
Edge  
  
Jericho  
  
Jon Cena  
  
Molly Holly  
  
Victoria  
  
Test  
  
Stacy  
  
Taker  
  
Hurricane  
  
  
  
Fashion Department:  
  
Head of Fashion Department/Fashion Consultant- Rico  
  
Lita  
  
Steph  
  
Trish  
  
Billy (when they were still with Rico)  
  
Chucky (when they were still with Rico)  
  
Torrie Wilson (she's still w/Tajiri)  
  
  
  
Santa's In Training:  
  
Rikishi  
  
Spike  
  
Big Show  
  
Mick Foley  
  
  
  
Reindeer Trainers:  
  
Rocky  
  
RVD  
  
  
  
Cooks:  
  
Angle  
  
Christian  
  
Kane  
  
  
  
Wood Shop:  
  
Bubba Ray Dudley  
  
D-von Dudley  
  
  
  
Inter-promotional Workers:  
  
(They go around the world spreading the name of Santa, sometimes working at malls dressed up as the stereotypical Santa Clause, posing with little children)  
  
Funaki  
  
Tajiri  
  
Jamie Noble  
  
Nidia  
  
Eddie Guerrero  
  
Chris Benoit  
  
  
  
Anti Christmas Villains:  
  
Leader of the Villains- ERIC BISCHOFF  
  
Raven  
  
Christopher Nowinski  
  
Big Poppa Pump  
  
  
  
A/N~ Okay, so there's the cast. I'm not sure when the first chapter will be up. You'll get the full explanation in the first chapter, whenever the hell I finish with it. I doubt this fic will have a plot . . . well kina. You neva know with me . . . just give it a chance. Okay, I'm done. I must go tend to my flying monkeys before they do some real damage to the Christmas tree. Happy Holidayz, Toodlez! ; ) 


	2. Chapter 1

Santa's Workshop  
  
By: OnthaEdge487  
  
Rating: Pg-13 . . . for now. *evil grin*  
  
Content: Language, Mention & some usage of drugs  
(it's only for purposes of humor, please don't be offended  
by it) . . . a sad attempt at WWE Christmas humor, and it  
might be gross . . .  
  
Summary: Uh . . . yea. 'Santa' is under pressure as  
Christmas is only a few days away. That's just the least  
of 'his' troubles though. Uncooperative elves, an evil  
competitor, and the fact that not many children believe in  
good old St. Nick are proving to be difficult challenges  
for the jolly old elf to face. Crappy summary, I know.  
  
Disclaimer: I own everyone in the WWE, and the company  
itself. *sees readers glaring at her* Oh . . . right. I  
own some of the superstars in the WWE, but will one day  
inherit the company? Is that better? *sees an angry mob  
of readers with pitchforks and torches, ready to attack*  
Okay, okay, geez you don't have to get all huffy about it.  
I don't own anyone in the WWE, and I am in no way  
affiliated with the company. Better? *sees the angry mob  
of readers begin to retreat* Whew, good. I may like  
smoores, but I'm not fond of being the marshmallow in the  
middle! (Yes, I aware that was lame.)  
  
A/N~ Well, I have not a clue where this idea came from.  
I'm warning you now it's going to be weird. And crappy.  
I'm not sure if I'll continue with it, basically it depends  
on my inspiration, my schedule (I'm hoping to get a job,  
plus I'm working on 6 other fics besides this . . . ) and  
the feedback I get. This isn't meant to be incredibly  
funny (cause it's not), or to really have a plot. Well,  
hopefully it has a plot . . . It's just something I need to  
get out of my system. If you don't like it, then don't  
read it. I must say it's slow in the beginning, but it  
hopefully gets better. I highly doubt that though . . .  
Oh, and I wrote part of this a while ago, so I will be  
using some old storylines as well as some new. The  
Superstar's character's might off a bit, but eh. OH, and  
when I had started to write this Stone Cold hadn't came  
back yet . . . if that even matters. Okay, I'm done here,  
so hopefully you'll enjoy. Read on people!  
  
~*~  
  
It's said that Santa Clause is a fictional character made up by the Toy industry to delude children's minds. The legend says that this 'Santa Clause' character lives in the North Pole with tiny little elves scurrying around at his beck and call, preparing for the one night of the year where he brings happiness to little children all around the world. This author is about to show you just how wrong the legend really is, as we journey to Titan Towers, home of the WWE Empire.  
  
Titan Towers may look like a normal, everyday building from the outside, but one must never judge a book by its cover. On the inside is where all the action happens, especially now only two days from Christmas Eve. Vince being the head of the company was running all over the place, making sure everything was on schedule. At this very moment in fact he was on his way to the Toy Workshop to check on toy production. Vince, wearing his usual grey business suit, walked briskly down the decorative hall, whistling "Deck the Halls' to himself.  
  
"Mr. McMahon! Mr. McMahon!" Vince spun around to see his assistant, William Regal sprinting down the hall, waving what looked like important paperwork in the air, attempting catch up with him. "WAIT! I must speak with you immed- whoa! AHHHHHHH!!" Vince watched, smiling to himself as Regal had slipped on what seemed to be eggnog (that had been carelessly spilled and not cleaned). Regal was sliding down the hall at a furious pace hitting display after display, until Vince realized Regal didn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.  
  
"Just my luck! He's headed this way . . . DAMN IT! STOP REGAL!" Vince began running, as Regal clumsily slipped and slid after him. At this point Vince was wheezing and sputtering, and needed to stop for air or he would surely faint. He paused for what seemed like two seconds, and just as he was about to start running again . . . WHAM! Vince and Regal collided, paper work flying everywhere, as well as the sticky eggnog splattering in both of the men's faces. "Mmmmm, not bad. Who made this eggnog? Angle? Christian?" Vince said, tasting some of the eggnog that had landed on his finger.  
  
"Um, sir . . . that's not eggnog . . ." Regal said, trailing off as he got up and brushed himself off. "One of the elves didn't take too well to the Figgie pudding this afternoon and well . . ." Vince paled a bit, clamped his hands over his mouth and quickly scurried down the hall. "Oh bloody hell, that can't be good. Now where in bloody hell is the bloody janitor? JANITOR! CLEAN THIS BLOODY MESS UP! NOW!" Regal bellowed.  
  
"WHAT?!" Seconds later a large figure appeared in a red and green elf's costume (you know, the weird hat with bells, and the freaky pointy shoes), holding a mop and bucket. "WHAT?!"  
  
"Austin, don't test me. Clean it up now or I'll tell Mr. McMahon and then you'll be on a bloody PERMINANT vacation!" Austin muttered several unflattering remarks under his breath; and then went on with cleaning the halls.  
  
In the Toy Workshop, several 'elves' were bustling are attempting to get everything in order for the routine inspection. "Hurry people, hurry! Mr. McMahon will be here any minute! Geez, if you people had just a bit more Mattitude we'd be just fine." The head elf, Matt Hardy shouted, and then glanced down at his clipboard. "Jeff? Can I talk to you?" The founder of Mattitude asked, as a rainbow-haired elf bounced over to him.  
  
"Yea Matt? Sup?"  
  
"Well, you haven't been meeting the working standards lately. The average elf is supposed to have made 5 toys in an hour, and you've haven't even made one." Matt replied, looking concerned.  
  
"Uh . . . but I've made something even better than a stupid toy!" Jeff exclaimed, rather enthusiastically.  
  
"Uh huh." Jeff gave Matt a pleading look, and with a sigh Matt gave in. "Alright show me what you made." Matt said, his voice full of skepticism. Jeff quickly scurried to his working area, grabbed something, and ran back to his brother.  
  
"Here it is. Ain't it wonderful?" Jeff said, brandishing a small, colorful bag in Matt's face. As Jeff admired his work, Matt looked it over, trying to stifle a laugh.  
  
"That's a bag of Skittles Jeff." Matt stated, arching an eye brow.  
  
"Not just a bag of Skittles, a never-ending bag of Skittles!!!!" Jeff exclaimed.  
  
"That's great . . . if we were working in the candy department! We make TOYS!!!!!! Remember?" Matt yelled, while lightly whacking Jeff in the back of the head with his clipboard.  
  
"Wait . . . we make toys? Doy!" Jeff said, smacking himself on the forehand, and then falling to the floor, twitching madly.  
  
"Tu nu shti nimica!!!!" Matt yelled, throwing his clipboard in the air in frustration.  
  
"... O..k..." Jeff stuttered, while slowly moving away, still twitching violently. Seconds later, Jeff was passed out on the floor, his tongue hanging out, drool freely dribbling down his chin.  
  
"Holy crap . . . That's not normal . . . then again, Jeff isn't normal. Aw damn, I can't just leave him there." Matt sighed, feeling guilty. He knew if he didn't get everything in order soon before Mr. McMahon came he, and all the workers in the toy workshop would be screwed. They were incredibly behind this year on toy production, and the fact that the workers were easily distracted didn't help much. Matt, looking down at Jeff, shook his head dissatisfaction. He grabbed Jeff's legs and dragged him in the bathroom.  
  
Suddenly, a loud shriek was heard in the very bathroom in which the Hardyz had entered. Apparently, Matt had dragged Jeff into the girl's bathroom! The occupants were none other than Stephanie McMahon, and Trish Stratus.  
  
"Ohhhh, fresh meat!" Trish and Steph exclaimed simultaneously, ready to pounce the brothers.  
  
"OH SHIT!!! I need reinforcements! Where are my Mf'ers at?!" Matt exclaimed, and proceeded to run out of the bathroom, completely forgetting about his bother. Jeff was left twitching on the floor.  
  
"Hehehe, light bulb! I got an idea, come here Steph!" Trish exclaimed, as the two women huddled together discussing something in hushed voices.  
  
"Holy shit, since when did you think? This world never ceases to amaze me . . ." Stephanie muttered, as she and Trish broke the huddle. They each pulled out something from their purses, and advanced towards a now unconscious Jeff. "Oh, this is going to be sooooo much fun!" The girls dragged Jeff into a stall and proceeded to prop him on a toilet.  
  
"Hell yea! Now, do you think he's more of a lilac, or a deep turquoise?" Trish asked, brandishing a small eye shadow holder in Stephanie's face.  
  
"Turquoise, it matches his hair. Hmmm, candy apple red or cotton candy pink?" Steph asked, holding up two tubes of lip gloss. "Decisions, decisions . . ."  
  
They both stood there, thinking for a moment, before both shouting "COTTON CANDY!" It didn't take them that long to get the job done. Soon they were standing back admiring their work, as Jeff sat slumped against the back wall, drooling.  
  
"So, what do ya think?" Trish inquired a broad smile on her face. Together, she and Stephanie sighed happily.  
  
"It's wonderful . . . we should have been makeup artists." Stephanie answered, and then glanced at her watch. "Oh my gosh! Trish, our break is almost over! Crap, you know how Rico gets, he'll kill us!" Trish simply nodded, as they quickly collected all their belongings, and sprinted out of the bathroom. Not seconds after their departure, another figure entered the bathroom.  
  
At this point Jeff was coming to, and groaned loudly feeling as if he'd been hit by a freight train. He had yet to open his eyes, and was still unaware of his surroundings, when he heard a rather disturbing voice.  
  
"Triiiiiiiiiish Straaaaaaaaaaatus, issss thaaaat yoooou?" called the mysterious voice. It didn't seem too happy either. Just Jeff's luck, the voice was getting nearer, and near, and soon enough the owner of the voice, Victoria opened the stall door, to see, what resembled a demented drowning, aardvark with way too much makeup on. (Don't ask . . .) She gasped at the hideous sight in front of her, as Jeff turned around to see what the hell she was looking at that made her react in that way.  
  
"Triiiiiiiiiish Straaaaaaaaaaatus, issss thaaaat yoooou?" Victoria repeated again, after her initial shock wore off. Realizing it was not the 'real Trish' she simply shrugged it off. "Close enough" Victoria said, pulling a highly confused Jeff up by the hair, and out of the stall. Just as she was about to punch the eXtreme One, the door burst open yet again, and three figures came running in.  
  
"Unhand him you dastardly villain!" And with a swoosh of a cape, the Hurricane was at Jeff's side, while Matt and Shannon Moore followed.  
  
"I think someone needs a Mattitude adjustment! Let this be a warning to you, now get the hell back to work, you psycho elf!" Matt yelled, glaring at Victoria, as he helped Jeff up.  
  
"Yeah, a warning! Get back to work!" Shannon said, following a seething Victoria out the door and back to her station.  
  
Back in the Fashion Department, the Trish and Stephanie were receiving an agonizing lecture from the Head of the Fashion Department himself, Rico. Both women each wore an indescribable grimace on their faces as the company's Most Fashionable Employee of the Year, admonished them.  
  
"How many times must I go over this with you people? NEVER BE LATE! Especially at a time like this! Christmas is only a few days away! And, I have a VERY important announcement to make. And you wouldn't want to miss that, now would you?" Rico scolded, as Trish glanced at Steph. Let's just say Stephanie didn't take being disciplined too well.  
  
"Do you know who the hell you're talking to? I'm Stephanie McMahon, damn it! And my Daddy is the head of this company, and he'll fire you if I tell him to! I'm Daddy's little girl, if you haven't guessed."  
  
"I know who the hell you are Miss. McMahon, now get to work. We have clothes to make people! We can't disappoint the children, now can we? Hop to, chop chop!" Rico said, backing away from the glaring McMahon, and moving around the area to check on production.  
  
"Hey, Rico, how's this outfit?" Lita asked, holding up an outfit consisting of pair of black baggy cargos and a pink fishnet shirt, similar to her own. Rico looked at the outfit with pure horror on his face. His face contorted, and Lita was sure he was going to hurl right then and there. She slowly backed away from him, just in case.  
  
Finally, when he was able to speak Rico told Lita exactly what he thought about her creation. "You want someone to wear THAT? Or is it for Austin to clean the floor with? I sure as hell hope that's a rag . . . my god my eyes! It's blinding me! IT BURNS! Get it away! What if it's diseased? HELP, HELP, SOMEONE HELP ME, IT'S ATTACK OF THE KILLER CARGOS! HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLP!" Rico screamed, running around the fashion workshop like a chicken without a head. Lita, now on the floor laughing hysterically, attempted to compose herself.  
  
"Dude, it's just . . . . a pair of pants . . . and a . . . shirt . . . HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Lita yelled, in between spurts of laughter. If only the other elves could see this. Rico had somehow found a huge amount of tissue paper and was wrapping himself up in it, hoping it would shield him from the 'diseased' outfit.  
  
"SOMEONE HELP! IT'S TRYING TO ATTACK ME! IF IT TOUCHES ME I'LL LOOSE MY EXCELLENT SENSE OF FASHION! AHHHHHHHHHHHH! Damn this tissue paper, it's not nearly long enough! GET IT AWAY I TELL YOU! BILLY, CHUCK, HEEEEEEEEEEELP!"  
  
Within seconds, Billy and Chuck were on the scene to aid their beloved stylist. "Quickly, tighter, tighter, more, more!" Rico shouted as Billy and Chuck struggled to wrap the tissue paper around his body. Lita, just wanting to be more of a nuisance to Rico, advanced on them with the outfit, almost making Rico piss himself. "HURRY, IT'S GETTING CLOSER!" Rico screeched, making Billy and Chuck jump in surprise.  
  
"Hold on Rico, we're trying!" Chuck replied, wrapping the tissue paper around Rico, as if he were a Mummy.  
  
"Yeah, we'd never let anything happen to you, don't worry!" Billy promised, as Rico squealed with fright of the nearing clothing. "Uh, oh . . ."  
  
"That didn't sound good. What's wrong? Billy? Chuck? What happened?" Rico asked frantically, as Billy and Chuck glanced at each other nervously.  
  
"Um, well . . . there's kinda no more tissue paper . . ." Chuck answered finally, breaking the silence that had descended over the three.  
  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Well, this will have to do." Rico said, half disappointedly, as he was too scared too dwell on it.  
  
"And . . . we accidentally wrapped it too tight, so you kinda can't get out." Billy explained, rather hesitant.  
  
"YOU WHAT?!" Rico shrieked, almost having a heart attack.  
  
"And now we can't get it off . . ." Chuck whispered, as Rico's eyes flashed with anger.  
  
"You mean I have to hop around in this hideously white tissue paper all day until those 'clothes' are properly disposed of?" Both Billy and Chuck nodded, and within seconds, Rico was passed out on the floor.  
  
In the stables, at the Reindeer training facility, the Rock, and Rob Van Dam, were sitting on two bails of hay playing a game of cards. "The Rock says go fish."  
  
"Duuuuuude . . . fish . . . for . . . what?" RVD asked, his eyes glazed over, with a goofy smile on his face. Oh yeah, he was in his favorite state, the fantastic state of being extremely high. (A/N~ Yes, this author has chosen to make RVD high, yet again, so if you're not comfortable with him on drugs, weed mainly then please skip this part, or don't continue the story. You've been warned.)  
  
"Are you serious jabroni? The Rock told you to go fish, now you go fish!"  
  
"But . . . dude . . . there's . . . no . . . pond . . . for . . . like . . . miles . . ." Rob answered, and began to roll some weed into a blunt.  
  
"Why does the Rock always get stuck with these jabronies?! But this, this is even worse, the Rock has to train the reindeer with a druggie! AND IT'S UP TO KURT ANGLE TO MAKE THE ROCK HIS HOLIDAY PIE! AHHHHH!" Rock whined, putting his head in his hands.  
  
"Dude . . . chill . . . care . . . for . . . one?" RVD asked looking up at Rock with the same glazed over expression.  
  
"The Rock is not a druggie! PIE, THE ROCK WANTS HIS PIE!!!" Suddenly, a animal like grunt could be heard nearby. Both men slowly turned, and noticed the stables full of reindeer. "And who in the BLUE HELL ARE YOU?!" Rock yelled, startling all the reindeer.  
  
"Rock . . . I . . . think . . . those . . . are . . . the . . . reindeer . . . we're . . . supposed . . . to . . . to train." RVD answered, getting up and walking up to one of the reindeer. He lightly patted it on the nose, and it nudged his arm. "Hey . . . lookie . . . the . . . little . . . guy . . . likes . . . me. But . . . then . . . again . . . everyone . . . loves . . . Rob . . . Van . . . Dam!" The reindeer continued to tug at Rob's arm, sniffing his hand, until finally it came to the blunt in his hand. It sniffed happily at it, trying to get it out of Rob's hand without getting caught.  
  
"Rob, you candy-ass, the reindeer likes your drugs, not you! Now put that thing out and let's get started with whatever the hell McMahon is making us do." Rock said, highly agitated.  
  
"I . . . didn't . . . know . . . there . . . was . . . such . . . a . . . thing . . . as . . . a . . . candy-ass. That . . . would . . . make . . . it . . . edible . . . right? And . . . if . . . I'm . . . a . . . candy-ass . . . then . . . that . . . makes . . . me . . . edible . . . right?" RVD asked, dropping his weed on the ground into the reindeer's stable, as he attempted to bite himself in the arm. "OUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHH! OUCHIES, OUCHIES, OUCHIES! Damn . . . I . . . don't . . . taste . . . very . . . good . . . I . . . must . . . be . . . undercooked . . . yeah."  
  
"Why?! Why, why, why did the People's Champ, the Great one, the most Electrifying man in sports entertainment get stuck with a mindless, pot smokin', blunt rollin' jabroni?!" Rock asked, waving his fists angrily at the sky.  
  
"Because . . . everything's . . . cool . . . when . . . you're . . . Rob . . . Van . . . Dam?" RVD asked doing his thumb hand movements then, turning his attention back to the Rock.  
  
"No, no it isn't jabroni. And if you don't shut your mouth, the Rock is gonna take his boot, shine it up real nice, turn it sideways, and stick it straight up your candy-ass! And, damn it jabroni, didn't I tell you to put that cigarette out?!" Rob blinked at Rock for a few seconds, a blank look on his face.  
  
"Yeah . . . I'm . . . not . . . smokin' . . . shit. Dude . . . what . . . are . . . YOU . . . smokin'?" RVD asked, curiously as the Rock began to sniff the air.  
  
"If you're not smokin' and the Rock's not cookin' then what in the blue hell is that smell?" Rock asked, as he peered over Rob van Dam's shoulder. Suddenly, his eyes budged as he let out a gasp. "Jabroni, the Rock smells what that reindeer's smoking!"  
  
"Huh? Smoke . . . wha? Confused . . . ohhhhhhh! OHHHHH! CRAP, THAT'S MINE GIMMIE MY DRUGS!" RVD yelled trying to snatch his blunt from the reindeer. The reindeer nipped and kicked, and with a sigh Rob gave up on it. "But, but . . . can't we . . . at least . . . share?" Rob whined, as Rock rolled his eyes. The reindeer grunted happily and continually puffed away.  
  
"Great, just great! Now, how are we supposed to train the reindeer when one's high? Huh? You tell the Rock that, Mr. Monday Night." The Rock yelled, glaring at Rob who just shrugged.  
  
"It won't make much of a difference . . . right?" Rob assumed, as he began to open the stables, one by one. The Rock shook his head in distain, clearly wishing he was somewhere else.  
  
"Whhhhhhy?! The Rock had wanted to cook . . . but noooooo, they gave the Rock's job to Angle! ANGLE, of all the candy-asses!" The Rock mumbled, as he joined RVD in getting the reindeer out of their stables, in preparation for their training.  
  
Speaking of Angle, he in the kitchen along with his fellow cooks Christian and Kane, ready to prepare dinner for that night. All day, they had been slaving away on cookies that would be shipped out to bakeries all over the world in preparation for Christmas. Or at least what they made could pass as cookies, by first initial glance.  
  
"Is it time for a milk break yet? Is it? Come ON, we've been working forever!"  
  
"Quit your belly aching, now come on ya two slap nuts, we gotta get dinner started before McMahon comes in here and starts bitching!" Kane grunted, as he began pulling several necessary ingredients out of the cupboard.  
  
"Do we have to? I think we've done more than enough for today. Make them cook their own dinner, I mean what are we, slaves? A blonde bombshell like me should not be down here in the kitchen getting all dirty!" Christian whined, throwing his apron to the ground in a huff.  
  
"Yea! I'm a freaking Olympic Gold Medalist for crying out loud! And I'm supposed to be subjected to make the Rock his stupid pie? I don't think so!" Angle shouted, joining Christian in the protest.  
  
"Look, if you two don't put those aprons back on and start helping me with dinner, you're gonna get the ass whuppin of your lives. And that's a promise that the Big Freakin' Machine isn't afraid to keep." Kane warned through clenched teeth. Faster than the speed of light, both Christian and Kurt were back in there aprons and at the counter ready to take instructions from Kane.  
  
"Um . . . w-what are we making?" Angle dared to ask. Both he and Christian knew not to piss Kane off when he was in one of these moods.  
  
"How about we make Chicken soup? It's a cold night . . ." Christian suggested, as Kane glared at him.  
  
"Well, I suppose that wouldn't be too hard . . . Fine, we'll make the damn soup as long as I get to cook it . . . hehe fire . . . um, anyways. You two get all the ingredients ready." The man known as the 'Big Red Machine' ordered, as Angle and Christian glanced nervously at each other.  
  
The pair hurried over to the refrigerator for the ingredients for that nights dinner. After rummaging through the fridge for a few moments, Kurt inquired, "What do you put in chicken soup anyways?" That got him a slap to the back of the head as Christian rolled his eyes.  
  
"And they say I'm a dumb blonde. Riiiiiight." After tossing a few rotting containers of food over his shoulder, Christian pulled out something foul smelling. "This looks like chicken right? And those are supposed carrots . . . I think . . ."  
  
"Hey Kane, when the hell was the last time you went to the supermarket? Like last Christmas? Everything in here is freaking molding!" Angle declared, brandishing a decaying celery stick at the larger man.  
  
"So? They don't need to know that." Kane answered snappily with a shrug. "Now hurry up so we can cook this!"  
  
"Yes sir!", both Angle and Christian said saluting Kane before scurrying off to fetch more of the necessary items to make the soup.  
  
~*~  
  
Not far away from Titan Towers, in a small abandoned building, formally a Taco Bell, were four shadowy figures. Two were huddled around a large pot, that was being held over a fire, sizzling and cracking making the small room extremely warm.  
  
"Is it ready yet? Huh? Damn it, I asked you a question! Is it ready?!"  
  
"Calm your hemorrhoids, Bitch-I mean Mr. Bischoff. I, of my superb intelligence should know when it's ready. You must be patient. Patience is the key, the key to success. I, being a Harvard graduate should---"  
  
"Oh would you shut up! Now, holla if ya hear me! " Christopher Nowinski looked slightly abashed at the fact that someone would every dare interrupt him during his little speech, yet he had grown used to it while hanging around with this merry bunch for so long. The Harvard graduate proceeded to stir the concoction that was now coming to a boil in the extremely large pot.  
  
"Here I am, trying to admire my gorgeous physique and, you're ruining my concentration! Damn it's hot in here . . . my peaks are growing limp! Nooooooo!" Scott Steiner said, poking at his biceps, praying they would perk back up.  
  
"Can it Steiner! Not all of us want to here you sit there and brag about your freakish physique. Personally, I'd rather just sit here and reflect on life . . . not like any of you morons have enough depth in your pitiful beings to do that simple task." Raven spoke from a more secluded corner, as he sat away from the other three.  
  
"Alright, shut up, all of you! If this plan works then my-I mean our dreams will have come true. We'll have finally done it, after all these years of plotting . . ." Eric Bischoff spoke gleefully, the prospect of his one dream being fulfilled too much for even him to fathom. As if on key, the four men simultaneously broke out into mechanical, yet malicious laughter that filled every inch of the small room.  
  
Christmas was definitely going to be different this year, and that was a guarantee.  
  
~*~Author's Notes~*~  
  
Okay, so it wasn't that great of a 1st chapter. I know, I've made you people wait forevvvvvvvvvvver for this, and I apologize. I had a feeling that I wasn't going to get this 1st chapter done until sometime in July . . . well, I kinda beat that date . . . heh. This isn't extremely funny, I understand. I was going for semi-amusing. Next chapter will hopefully be better and a hell of a lot funnier. If your interested, you might want to check out some of my other fics and see if they are for you. Heh, I know cheap plug. I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter by . . . maybe by next Christmas if we're lucky, lol. Okay, I kid . . . hopefully. I'll try to start writing it A.S.A.P. but I need some inspiration. If you guys have any ideas for this story, feel free to run them by me (onthaedge487@yahoo.com), and if I like them I'll use them & you'll get full credit of course. So, please READ and REVIEW people . . . or should I say 'Peeps'. *falls over laughing then runs off in search of Christian* Well, I'm out like disco suits and mullet cuts!  
  
~*~OnthaEdge487~*~ 


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